


When Words Are Not Enough

by MadameBaggio



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Always a female Bilbo, Bilbo is So Done, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Emotionally Constipated Thorin, Eventual Smut, F/M, Female Bilbo Baggins, Female Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Genderswap, Happy Ending, Smut, Soulmates, Thorin Is an Idiot, Voice Touch, kind of, lingering touches
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22535212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameBaggio/pseuds/MadameBaggio
Summary: Bluebell Baggins grew up hearing love stories about soulmates and finding the missing piece of your soul, but she never found hers.Eventually, she’d stopped waiting.Then Gandalf crashed into her house, followed by dwarves and everything she thought she knew came crashing down.Thorin Oakenshield is her soulmate, but she doesn’t think he knows. Maybe dwarves don’t have them.She won’t tell him. It’ll be better this way.But then… His voice just won’t stop causing havoc within her.Oh no.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield
Comments: 148
Kudos: 466





	1. 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [What's It Like?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/685938) by [Crocochoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crocochoo/pseuds/Crocochoo). 



> A long time ago I read "What's It Like?", by Crocochoo when I was devouring Bilbo/Thorin fanfictions. It is an amazing work and I highly reccomend it.
> 
> I loved the idea and thought about it for a long time. I started writing this a few years ago, but never finished it.
> 
> Let's see how it goes now ^^

Bluebell Baggins had never put much stock on the soulmate tales that permeated the Shire. Everybody kept telling her she’d feel different once she found her own soulmate, but Bell had passed the age of caring if she had a soulmate or not.

Her younger years had been difficult: all her friends had someone, her cousins had soulmates, but poor Bluebell Baggins didn’t. She’d cried some nights, wondering why Yavanna had left her alone.

Time showed Bluebell that, while pleasant, she didn’t require a soulmate to be happy. She was an independent hobbit and she found pleasure in being there for her family and friends. Nowadays, when someone mentioned soulmates, it didn’t ache anymore.

She’d accepted it wasn’t something meant for her and she lived a happy life. She couldn’t care less if the people of the Shire called her spinster behind her back. Let them whisper as much as they wanted. She had nothing to complain and she liked her quiet life.

Gandalf -obviously- ruined it.

He brought 12 dwarves to her smial and -from the conversation she’d heard around the table- there was another one to arrive! Bluebell felt like boxing the wizard’s ears, and she just might if they flung one more of her plates.

When, at last, the sound of knocking came from her front door, all of them quieted solemnly.

“He’s here.” Gandalf said gravely, and Bluebell had to wonder who was at her door now.

That was when her whole world changed.

She heard his voice way before she saw him. Gandalf had opened her door like it was his house, and Bell felt like hitting him once again.

That was when she heard…

“Gandalf. I thought you said this place would be easy to find. I lost my way, twice. Wouldn’t have found it at all had it not been for that mark on the door.”

Whoever this new dwarf was his voice was… Magical. That was the first thought that crossed Bell’s mind. She had no idea why, but his voice made her shiver from head to toe. 

If her night hadn’t been so mad and if those dwarves hadn’t almost driven her spare, she’d have understood the signs earlier. As it was…

Wait, what did he say about the door?

“Mark?” Bell demanded, charging at Gandalf. “There’s no mark on that door. It was painted a week ago!”

Gandalf carefully closed the door before she could take a look at it. “There is a mark; I put it there myself.” He gave her a kind smile, but she wasn’t charmed at all. “Bluebell Baggins, allow me to introduce the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield.” 

Bluebell had avoided looking at the new member of the dwarven party. There was something inside her that desperately wanted to see his face, and that was scaring her a little. She felt that, once she turned, things would be different somehow; but now she couldn’t avoid it anymore.

She should’ve never turned.

She felt it the moment his eyes -so blue, so beautiful -landed on her.

Everybody had always said there was no mistaking a soulmate bond. They said that, the moment you found your soulmate, you knew it; something deep down knew it right away and so did you.

Bluebell knew, the moment Thorin Oakenshield put his eyes on her, that he was her soulmate. His voice was just a confirmation.

“So, this is the Hobbit.” As his eyes took her in, his voice felt like a caress on her skin.

Literally.

That was a particular trait from hobbit’s bonds: they could feel the voices of their soulmates like a physical touch. Belladonna -Bell’s mother -always said it made impossible to lie to your soulmate, because you could sense the lie in the way their voice felt on your skin. The younger lasses said it made interesting when their mates had something naughty in mind, and a simple “hello” touched them in very inappropriate places.

Belladonna used to tell Bell that this was a part of Yavanna’s lesson for them: the words of a loved one have great power over you. Sometimes a cruel sentence hurt more than a slap, and a loving word could bring great comfort.

What hobbits felt when their soulmates spoke directly to them wasn’t the words; but the intentions behind them.

Bluebell had never understood any of that, and it made little sense to her that someone could  _ feel _ a voice, but now she could feel it as well. Thorin’s first sentence was a tentative touch against her left cheek, like his voice was gently pulling her face so he could look better at it.

The second sentence, was something completely different.

“Tell me, Mistress Baggins, have you done much fighting?” As he started to circle her -like a hungry wolf and its prey -Bell could feel hands on her. She knew -logically -that he wasn’t touching her -but it still was as if his hands were running over her body.

As he stepped behind her, she felt the weight of a touch on her waist and her back; not grasping hands, or even harmful ones, but something that made her wonder if that Dwarf knew she was his soulmate. The touch of his voice was certain like the one of a lover who knew they had permission to touch. His voice was discovering her body, but it felt like it knew it had every right to touch her.

She had to fight the urge to slap him for the audacity. “Pardon me?” She threw instead, not sure if she was actually talking to him regard his ludicrous question or about his wandering hands -well, voice.

“Axe or sword?” He insisted, his voice caressing the back of her neck, before he was finally in front of her again. “What’s your weapon of choice?” The last bit felt like trailing fingers along the upper curve of her breast, and Bell feared she was blushing, but she had to have some control.

“Well, I have some skill at Conkers, if you must know, but I fail to see why that’s relevant.” She told him dryly.

“Thought as much.” He drawled, and those fingers dipped even lower, following that curve of her breast. “She looks more like a nursemaid than a burglar.”

Bluebell wasn’t sure what infuriated her more: the conceited little smirk on his lips, or the way that, despite those dismissive words, his voice was skimming the underside of her breast.

She leaned forward on his direction, knowing well he was way too tall -were all the dwarves so tall? -then pitched her voice low, so only he’d listen to her next words. “Is that why you can’t keep your eyes off my breasts?”

Thorin reared back and narrowed his eyes at her.

“We saved you some supper, lad.” Balin spoke suddenly, breaking the tension. “Come eat.”

Thorin still held her eyes for another second, before moving away without another word.

Yavanna waited years to give Bluebell her soulmate.

And it turned out he was a rude dwarf.

_ How charming. _


	2. 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the nice comments.  
> I'm glad you're giving this work a chance, since it's the first time I write something about this ship.  
> I hope you enjoy this chapter.

Bluebell had no idea how Gandalf had managed to convince her to go on this journey.

Though, why would she lie to herself? It hadn’t been Gandalf’s words that’d convinced her to drop everything and come along. It had been Thorin’s song.

So sad, so heartfelt, so lonely.

Her soulmate had lost his homeland and it pained him; she wanted to help him recover it.

The life on the road was difficult. She wasn’t used to riding all day long, or sleeping on the ground, surrounded by snoring dwarves.

However, her biggest problem was -quite obviously -Thorin Oakenshield.

She’d wondered for a while if dwarves even had soulmates. She knew for a fact that men didn’t, so it was possible that dwarves didn’t as well. She’d tried asking Bofur, but they kept secrets as greedily as they surely kept gold; so she’d decided they didn’t. It was probably just a hobbit thing and Thorin had no idea he was the other half of her soul.

Bluebell had no intention of telling him he was.

Sure, it would hurt to leave him behind one day, but he clearly didn’t care for her, at all. He never talked to her. Ever. Sometimes he barked orders at her, but mostly he’d growl instructions at Dwalin, and the big dwarf would report them back to Bluebell.

However, despite all that, on the rare occasions when he did talk directly to her, she was left even more confused. He refused to use her name; he regularly called her “burglar” or Mistress Baggins -the last one only rarely -and he gave her short barked orders (“Help Bombur”, “Watch the ponies”, “Hurry up”), but the touch of his voice was never rude.

Even when he was incredibly harsh to her, the touch of his voice never felt that way. When he called her “Burglar” or “Mistress Baggins” his voice touched her neck and shoulders, pulling gently, but firmly in his direction, demanding her attention. When he gave her orders, his voice would give her a soft push towards what she had to do.

The voice she could hear was dry and rude, the one she could feel was anything but. The damned dwarf was driving her mad.

The worst thing was that she couldn’t confront him about any of that because she couldn’t explain the situation without exposing things she didn’t want exposed.

So Bluebell remained quiet as the days passed and the Shire became more and more distant.

She started getting along with the other dwarves, even if they acted a bit oddly. Balin and Dwalin were acting as two fussy nursemaids around her; they made sure she ate, slept and practiced with one of the daggers Fíli had provided her with, and kept their eyes on her at all times. Fíli and Kíli acted as if she was their mother; they kept fighting for her attention with stories and antics, and constantly asked questions.

The other dwarves also had strange reactions towards her: Bifur, Bombur and Dori treated her as if she was some important Lady; Ori seemed in awe of her, but would squeak and blush if she talked directly to him; Bofur and Nori seemed strangely amused by something she wasn’t aware of; and Glóin and Óin just seemed constantly mistrustful of her.

Bluebell was totally confused by those dwarves.

However, this wasn’t even the most confusing thing that’d happened on the road.

One week after they passed Bree, and the night after Balin’s haunting tale of Azanulbizar, they found a stream and decided to bathe.

Bluebell was thoroughly assured by the dwarves that no one would dare to peek, but she should stay close enough that they could hear her screaming if the need arose. Bluebell was so desperate for a bath that she promptly accepted it.

She scrubbed herself clean as best as she could. She might have forgotten her handkerchief, but she remembered to bring a bit of soap. It wouldn’t last all that long, but she’d use it while she had it.

Feeling as clean as possible in the situation she left the water and returned to the camp. Balin, Bifur and Glóin were conferring about something in the secret language of dwarves. None of them appeared to have noticed Bell, but that was fine by her.

Gandalf had disappeared a while back -maybe the idea of a proper bath scared him a bit -so Bell sat alone by the fire. She planned on brushing her hair and it would be easier while it was still wet.

She started working on it carefully, untangling the crazy knots that had formed in some places. She was so distracted she didn’t notice the sudden silence.

“Burglar.”

Bluebell startled and squeaked at Thorin’s voice. Not only because the words had come out growled in a cold fury, but they’d had felt like never before: demanding, possessive, grabby. They grabbed her by the hips in a strong hold -almost too strong, but not yet bruising -and pulled her so much that Bluebell almost fell from her perch on the rock where she sat.

It made Bell shiver all over.

“What?” She turned in his direction, now alarmed.

And the scene in front of her was quite shocking: most of the dwarves had their backs turned. Balin and Dwalin were beside Thorin, but they were mostly looking anywhere but at her. Now Thorin… He was looking at her and he seemed furious. Not only that, though. There was something else lurking in his eyes.

The same possessiveness in his voice was on his eyes.

Bell shivered once again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He growled again.

For a second it was truly hard to answer. His voice took over her: she felt it sliding up her neck, her nape and sinking into her hair in a firm grip. It took all her power not to throw her head back and moan at it, even in its roughness.

“B-Brushing my hair.” She cursed herself for stuttering. The problem wasn’t the situation; the problem was the havoc that his voice was causing on her.

“Why?” He demanded.

“Wait a moment.” Bell asked, taking a deep breath, ignoring the invisible fingers on her neck and their caress. “There’s obviously some cultural misunderstanding, because I don’t know why you’re all acting like I took off my clothes to dance in front of you.”

Kíli snickered at that and Fíli elbowed him for it.

“Mistress Baggins.” Balin cleared his throat, but he was still resolutely looking at the ground. “Among dwarves, the grooming of one’s hair is never done in public. It’s something only done in front of family or…” He cleared his throat again. “Lovers.” He finished.

Oh. That was why they were all looking away. It was as if she was appearing naked for all of them. Still, that didn’t explain…

“Why are you looking then, Master Oakenshield?” She asked, a brow arched. “We are not family.” She didn’t even mention they weren’t lovers. It wasn’t necessary to point out the obvious.

However…

He was the only one actually looking at her right now.

_ He knows. _ It was such a clear thought in her head at that moment.

Somehow, he knew there was something there. That was why his voice and its touch were so confusing to her; he was trying to keep his distance, but he knew they were soulmates. And so did the others.

That explained the way they behaved around her. They knew there was something there; they were respecting their leader’s… What? Did dwarves have soulmates?

There was a lot she didn’t understand, but suddenly many things made sense to her; and one of them came to the front of her mind: “ _ No one mentioned anything to me!” _

Bluebell didn’t care if she herself had decided not to mention the fact to Thorin. How dare he hide it from her like that?

“Well?” She pressed, when it became clear he wasn’t planning on explaining himself to her.

“You’re my…” He growled, then stopped. “My…”

His voice grabbed at her shoulders every time he started the sentence, only to let go once he failed to finish it.

“You’re a member of my company, therefore, my responsibility.” He finished through gritted teeth, while his voice grabbed at her shoulders and kept her in place.

“Really?” Bell drawled. “And for that reason -and that reason only -it’s fine for you to watch me brushing my hair?”

Thorin opened his mouth but no sound came out of it. Balin was pressing his lips together, and Bell had the impression that he was trying not to smile. Óin was demanding to know what she’d said and Bofur was whispering urgently to Bifur.

So Thorin, heir of the throne, great warrior, leader of that group, just turned his back to them all and left. He probably went to sulk and pout under a tree. 

Bluebell rolled her eyes and decided to finish brushing her hair by the water, where she wouldn’t offend any dwarfish sensibility. When she crossed the tree line, Gandalf came out of nowhere.

“Ah, Bluebell, my dear. Did I miss something?” Gandalf asked as she passed him.

She declined to answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed it.
> 
> Let me know your feelings.


	3. 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the lovely kudos and comments.
> 
> So Bell knows that Thorin knows and so do the others...  
> What should she do now?

Thorin barely looked at her after that. Bluebell wanted to hit him on the head with a pan.

When she thought he had no idea about soulmates, she was happy not to mention it. She didn’t want to explain to him the concept of something so precious and sacred and have him laugh at her for it.

But if dwarves knew about it… If they had soulmates…

That changed everything.

Well, maybe it didn’t. Thorin still would be a King and a dwarf and she’d still be just a hobbit spinster from the Shire. It was unlikely that this was going anywhere, there was no place in his life for her. It was why he was pretending to know nothing. 

Or so Bell assumed.

But still… She wanted to know; she needed to. And if nothing came out of it, she’d go back to the Shire, perhaps a bit heartbroken, but she’d survive. She had so far.

That decision brought another set of problems. She didn’t know how to talk to Thorin about it. She couldn’t just walk up to him and say: “I’m pretty sure you’re my soulmate”.

Well, perhaps she could, but she didn’t know if she was brave enough. (She wasn’t.)

Days after the hair brushing incident, Kíli helped her along. They were all sitting around the fire, eating in silence when he spoke. “Hey, Mistress Baggins… How do hobbits court?” He asked out of nowhere.

Yavanna bless Kíli and his total lack of subtlety.

All the eyes went from Kíli to Bluebell, alight with curiosity. Well, all except Thorin who was gloomily staring at his bowl.

“Why are you concerned, Master Kíli?” Bell teased lightly. “Did some hobbit lass capture your heart back in the Shire?”

The other dwarves laughed as he blushed, but -apparently -he was decided to help his uncle along. “Just curious.” He pressed.

“Well, it’s a bit complicated, you see?” She started slowly. “Young hobbits normally have sweethearts, and they exchange flowers and food as a sign of affection, as we’re very fond of both. Flowers have a special language for us and they can convey a lot of feelings and messages. And food is food.” Some of the dwarves chuckled at that. “But that’s young flirtation, spring romances. It can hardly be called courting.”

“Had your fair share of those, lass?” Bofur teased.

Bell chuckled. “I was quite the fetching young lass.”

Nori chuckled. “I’ll bet you were.”

“But what about after?” Glóin asked confused. “How come you don’t marry after?”

“I didn’t say that.” She indicated. “Hobbits have soulmates, Master Glóin. We find them after we come off age. No need to court the other half of your soul, right?”

That quieted all of them.

Thorin turned his eyes on her direction. “Soulmates?” His voice came out rough, but its touch revealed so much more: it was a tentative sweep over her cheek. He was unsure.

“Yes, soulmates.” Bluebell carefully kept her tone neutral. “Hobbits only meet theirs after their 33 th birthday. Everything before is just harmless flirting. Once a hobbit meets their soulmates they’re likely to marry them as soon as possible, anything that happens in between isn’t necessarily courting. Of course, there are still flowers and food, but it’s given more out of tenderness and love, than an actual courting process.”

Dwalin cleared his throat, capturing her attention. “And… How would you know if you met your soulmate?”

It was like none of them was breathing, waiting for her answer.

Bell shrugged. “You know the moment your eyes meet. It’s a deep certainty, you just know. Then, of course, there’s the Voice Touch.” She paused intentionally.

“Voice touch, lass?” Balin pressed.

She had put a piece of potato in her mouth and chewed it slowly. The dwarves were almost vibrating out of their skin in anxiousness. Not Thorin, logically. He was stone still, his eyes fixed on her.

“Soulmates…” She spoke at last. “Can feel the touch of their other halves’ voice on their skin.”

Balin seemed mighty intrigued by that. “Truly? How does it work?”

“Well, every time their soulmate talks directly to them, they can feel the voice as sure as if it was the touch of their hand. Like, if they say ‘good morning’ from across the room, you can still feel their hands cupping your face or something.”

“This is amazing.” Kíli proclaimed from his place. “So you can feel every word he says?”

It hadn’t escaped Bell’s notice his choice of phrasing. “It has more to do with the intention behind these words.” Bell explained. “So a sweet ‘good morning’ might feel like a gentle touch, but if they say something as innocuous as ‘pass me the plate’ with other thoughts in mind… Well, the sensation would be quite different.” Her tone made quite clear what she meant by the last part.

Ori blushed bright red, while Dori gasped in dramatic outrage.

“Is it that strong of a feeling?” Fíli asked curiously.

“It really is as if the person’s hand is on you. Sometimes even their lips.” She chuckled, as she recalled some embarrassing moments between young couples back home. Then she sighed. “However, it’s not always perfect and tender. A lass in the Shire had an argument with her soulmate and when he screamed at her it felt like a slap to the face. It was the first case of a broken bond in decades.”

Everybody had been horrified by the whole affair and Rosalind never recovered well from it. That a soulmate would have such a strong desire to hurt the other was a horrible thing.

“That is really sad.” Bofur grumbled.

“Yes. Normally it is supposed to make you feel desired, cherished and appreciated.” Bell murmured. “It’d hurt like nothing else to have it used like this.”

“So what you’re saying…” Balin cut again. “Is that the touch is about the real feelings behind the words.”

“Yes. Quite helpful when the person you’re mated with is quiet, taciturn or gloomy.” Bell’s tone was carefully nonchalant, like she could care less about this conversation.”If they can’t use their words to express their feelings, their voice touch will show it anyway.”

Thorin was so still she was starting to wonder if he’d actually turned to stone.

“It must be quite the feeling.” Nori commented, clearly fishing.

Bell just hummed and let them interpret it as they wished.

Obviously Kíli wouldn’t let it be this easy. “Do you have a soulmate, Mistress Baggins?”

“That is an awfully personal question, Master Kíli.” Gandalf spoke for the first time since this conversation started.

Kíli stuttered an apology and blushed furiously, as the others laughed.

“I take dwarves don’t have soulmates.” She commented.

“We have Ones.” Fíli offered.

“Ones?” She repeated interested.

Bifur exploded in angry khuzdul, and Fíli replied in the same language.

“What is going on?” Bluebell asked concerned.

“Bifur said it is not right to talk about Ones with outsiders.” Nori supplied easily.

Bell arched an eyebrow. “Good to know that this is his opinion of me.” She said dryly.

“He didn’t mean it that way!” Kíli was quick to defend.

“It’s late.” Thorin declared getting up. He was decidedly not looking at her now. “Dwalin and Nori can have the first watch, the others get some rest.”

If this was how it was going to be…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That might give Thorin something to think about...  
> Those two are really hard-headed and I don't think the Company is helping as much as they believe they might be... hahahaha
> 
> Let me know your feelings ;)


	4. 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter ended being short, but I hope you enjoy it.

After that day Thorin seemed to make an even more conscious effort to not talk directly to her. All the orders he had to her now were given to Dwalin to pass along, and the big dwarf seemed tired of this scheme.

However, Bluebell got the message: he wanted to keep a distance. He didn’t care he was her soulmate -or her One, or whatever dwarves called it. She wouldn’t talk to him as well.

Then the whole troll thing happened, and they found the cave, the second wizard, a pack of hunting orcs, a party of elves and -finally -Rivendell.

It was as glorious as she always dreamed it would be. Even with all the grumbling and complaining from the dwarves.

Gandalf started guiding them down towards it. It was a rocky irregular path, but the dwarves could navigate it easily, Bluebell however had some difficulty going down. She started getting behind, but she kept her slow pace, more concerned with her safety than with speed.

“Mistress Baggins.”

For a dwarf who spent a lot of his time ignoring her, Thorin Oakenshield sure liked her attention on him. Everytime he called her name, his voice touched her face, turning it towards him. He wanted her eyes on him.

_ Arrogant prick. _

“Yes, Master Oakenshield?” She kept her eyes on her feet and where she was stepping.

“Are you having some kind of problem back there?” His tone was acerbic, but his voice was running up and down her arms, like hands looking for injuries.

“You all might have been made for this kind of terrain, Master Oakenshield, but I was not.” She replied dryly. “I am just being careful. Or would you rather I twisted my ankle?”

He sighed and she felt a gentle chuck under her chin. Was he…

“Come, Mistress Baggins. No one should be left behind.” He approached her and offered his hand to help her get down from the boulder. However, his voice had gotten there first, grabbing hold of her hand, gently running over her knuckles.

What was wrong with him just then?

“I need more space to get down.” She informed him.

Thorin rolled his eyes, then let go of her hand, but instead of stepping back like she thought he would, he grabbed her by the waist and lifted.

“Thorin Oakenshield!” She shrieked as her feet left the ground. “You better put me down right now, or I will…” Then her feet were back on the firm ground and she was face to chest with the king, his hands already releasing her. She glowered up at him, and something magical happened: the corner of his mouth tipped up in amusement. It was the closest she’d ever seen to smile on his face.

He had no right to be this attractive.

“You sounded like a true nursemaid just then.” He informed her, his tone warm. His voice was drawing gentle circles on her waist as he spoke.

“You did act like a faun just then.” She informed him primly. “Picking me up like that, without even a ‘by your leave’!”

He pressed his lips together and she just knew he was fighting off a smile.

“I am trying to hurry you along, Mistress Baggins.” He told her. His voice was still warmer than she had ever heard, its fingers trailing along her side teasingly.

Normally, Bluebell tried her best to hide her reactions to his words, but he was acting so out of character just then, that she let it take her over. She shivered from the feeling.

And Thorin saw it , clear as day. His eyes darkened, becoming a stormy sky and Bluebell felt something that had little to do with his voice and everything to do with him.

“Let us go.” His voice was low and intimate. It also slid down her back and stopped short of reaching her bottom, but Bluebell knew where it intended to go.

“Thorin Oakenshield! I know very well what you have in mind right now and you better stop that immediately!” She scolded before she could stop herself.

Thorin seemed shocked by her outburst. She realized it was the first time she had acknowledged out loud that she was feeling his voice. She had just admitted he was her soulmate and that she was aware of that.

_ Great. _

“Mistress Baggins…” This time his voice did grab his bottom, and Bell squeaked, panicked and covered his mouth with her hand. Granted, she had to be on her tiptoes to do it, so it was more amusing to him than anything else.

“Not another word from you.” She chided him again. “Not until you can think of something that isn’t my bottom.”

His eyebrows almost reached his hairline at that.

“Now go.” She pointed the way ahead to him. “I don’t want to hear another word from you.”

She carefully removed her hand from his mouth. “Burglar…” A single finger running down her spine…

“Quiet!” She protested and started walking.

She needed some space.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WELL, FINALLY!
> 
> Kind of... lol
> 
> Next chapter... Bell finds out some very interesting aspects of the Voice Touch *wink wink*


	5. 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments and the kudos.
> 
> Today Bell and Thorin will find out about a very interesting aspeect of this voice touch thing... ;)

Thorin might have flustered her earlier, but it was only because she hadn’t expected him to act like that.

Now she was prepared and he’d regret playing around with her like that. She might regret it as well, but she would rather go swinging anyway. He’d only be able to look, but she might get a little more than that.

The bath she got was a luxury beyond anything she had ever gotten before. She was assisted on it by an elf-maid who helped her clean her hair until it was finally snot free. Whatever she used in Bluebell’s hair made it soft and it smelled like a dream. Bell herself scrubbed her skin until it was red, but blessedly clean.

Another lovely elf-maid managed to find her a dress. It hadn’t been an easy task, since Bell’s body was way too voluptuous when compared to an elvish one, but they finally found one that was comfortable enough on her breasts. They didn’t have enough time to properly fix it, and it seemed somewhat of a crime to just cut the skirt so she wouldn’t trip on it, but -unfortunately -it was the only choice. It wasn’t a perfect fit for many reasons, but it was lovely and clean.

The elves were fascinated with Bell’s thick curly hair and asked to style it. Bell let them and the end result was absolutely gorgeous. They made two smaller braids in the crown of her head, and another thicker one down its back, but let most of her hair hanging free. They also found small bluebells to put in it.

It was a sweet detail and they all giggled over it.

“Mistress Baggins.” Balin and Óin found her as she made her way to the dinner hall. “You look lovely.”

“Thank you kindly, Master Balin.” She made her voice extra sweet and batted her eyelashes at him.

The dwarf’s laughter was hearty and even Óin joined in.

“You’re a good lass.” Óin declared, patting her on the shoulder.

“Thank you.” Bluebell replied carefully, touched by the uncharacteristic words.

“If the lad wasn’t so bloody…”

“We will be late for supper!” Balin cut in, a bit too dramatically for the situation.

Óin gave him a flat look, but didn’t insist on the subject. That made Bluebell wonder… He was likely talking about Thorin and whatever was going on there. It was clear he thought the King was being stubborn, but what was the point of contend? Did they want Thorin to accept the bond or not?

“You are just a hobbit from the Shire.” A sneering voice said in her head. It sounded suspiciously like her Lobelia.

At this point Bluebell couldn’t claim to know what she was doing. She’d changed her mind so many times during this journey, she wasn’t even certain if she wanted to keep her distance from Thorin or not.

She did dress up though, she couldn’t deny she wanted him to pay attention to her. And pay attention he did.

All through dinner he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. He frowned a lot and never talked to her, but she was expecting it. He’d been in a foul mood since they entered Rivendell, like he was waiting for some elf to stab him in the back at any minute.

As the days passed, the elves kept bringing her dresses and doing her hair. Bluebell was starting to think they saw her as a doll, but she did enjoy Thorin’s pinched face every time she showed up with a new dress.

Most of the time he’d just growl ‘burglar’ at her -his voice sliding down her back possessively- or he’d just say ‘mistress Baggins’ in that particular tone of his -then the slide of his voice would be teasing -but he never talked to her, especially like he’d done the day they arrived.

But he was going to, Bell was sure.

And he did. In the middle of their second week there.

One of the ladies had promised she’d make a dress especially for Bluebell, made for her only, instead of a castoff. That day it had been finished. It was a beautiful thing, made of the softest silk Bluebell had ever touched and it was in cornflower blue.

They once again tied her hair in intricate braids and Bluebell felt like a princess. Was it good enough for a king?

Bell shook her head, trying to disperse the thought. She’d never doubted herself like this before, and she couldn’t believe she was doing it now.

Thorin might be her soulmate, but Bluebell was an independent hobbit and nobody could change that.

“Burglar.”

Oh, so this was what was on his mind today… His voice slid over her hips, squeezing possessively, kneading her flesh. “Another dress?”

That dwarf was trying to kill her.

She took a deep breath, but refused to turn to him. “Thorin Oakenshield, careful with that voice.” She warned.

He stopped right behind her. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He wasn’t even trying to sound convincing. His voice just proved it, since it was lovingly cupping her breasts.

She turned to him, an arched eyebrow. “Of course you don’t.” She’d like to have said it sarcastically, but her body was singing from the ghost touch, so it came out breathy, almost needy.

Thorin’s eyes darkened as he took her in. “Where is it now?” He demanded, and she knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Cupping my breasts.” She sighed.

He took a step forward, their bodies a hair’s breadth away. “Keep going.”

“Sliding down my belly….”

“Keep talking, Burglar.”

“Sinking into… Yavanna!” She grabbed his coat as his voice sunk into her cunt, questioning fingers.

Thorin put his hand on her waist and brought her closer, shielding her from view with his body. He lowered his head, so he could say the next words into her ear. “We need to talk; we truly do. But I won’t have this conversation in this place. As soon as we leave, once we put some distance between us and these elves…”

“Thorin…” She mewled.

Bluebell knew she should be paying attention to what he was saying, but his voice was working her. She didn’t know it was possible -hobbits would never discuss something this intimate in public -but she felt herself getting closer to the edge.

Thorin probably heard it in her voice, or maybe there was something in her eyes, because he arched an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Don’t stop talking.” She begged urgently.

“How is this fair, hm, Burglar?” He murmured by her ear. “You seem to be enjoying yourself without my participation.”

“Without your…” Her gasp was cut once he continued to talk.

“I don’t get to feel your skin.” He clarified. “But here you are, tethering at the edge of a very particular precipice.”

“Thorin…”

“Are you going to fall for me, Burglar?” He growled against her ear and she was lost.

Later that night, she would reflect upon his words, and wonder if he only meant ‘fall over the precipice’, as he’d called it, or actually fall for him. She’d spent hours wondering at his meaning.

However, right that second, as his voice pushed her through her peak, Bluebell could only think about the sensations, and how sacred this connection was.

Thorin let her compose herself. She was still grabbing his coat, but his hands had firmly remained on her waist.

Bluebell breathed deeply, while she tried to regain some resemblance of control and dignity, and Thorin waited patiently while she did it.

“I cannot believe this just happened.” She murmured, more to herself.

Thorin chuckled. “I cannot say I do, either.” This time his voice was a gentle touch against her cheek, prompting her to look at him.

“Once we are far away from here, we will have a proper conversation.” He vowed again. By his tone, she might think him completely indifferent, but his voice cupped her face, caressing her cheeks.

If it wasn’t for their bond, Bluebell would never dream that Thorin might even like her a tiny bit.

_ Difficult, thick headed dwarf. _

“Is this about the elves?” She asked warily.

“Yes.”

_ Of course it was. _

Bluebell sighed and straightened her clothes and tried to somehow fix her hair. She noticed that Thorin was paying close attention to that.

“Let me guess…” Her voice was sugary sweet. “You’re only watching because you’re the leader of this company.”

“Do not sass me, Mistress Baggins.” His voice was deceptively calm, because she could feel it grabbing on her waist.

“No more of that, Oakenshield.” She warned. “You stop that. No more playing until we have a very serious conversation.”

He took a deep breath. “You are right.” He inclined his head to her. “I apologize.”

“No apologies needed, just…” She sighed. “I am confused and still… A bit over excited.” He arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment. “It is a conversation better saved for later.”

He nodded to her. “Until then, Mistress Baggins.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know your feelings!


	6. 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I took a bit longer with this one. Sorry about it.
> 
> Thank you for the kudos and lovely comments!
> 
> Get ready for the angsty!

Bluebell should’ve known that things would never be that easy with Thorin. While their last days in Rivendell passed in relative peace and cordiality, things could never remain that simple.

The whole debacle with the Stone Giants proved that.

“She’s been lost since she left her home.” Thorin screamed against the storm. “She should’ve never come.”

Not even the cold rain or the harsh winds hurt worse than his words, or the way they pushed her away. She could feel his voice’s hold on her shoulder, trying to make her step back.

He truly wanted her gone.

Maybe she should go.

“Don’t do this, lass.” Obviously Bofur would be there to see her running away.

“Thorin is right. I should’ve never come.” Her voice was low, because she was afraid she’d cry if she said it any louder.

Bofur let out something that was likely a very impressive curse in khuzdul. “King or not, he should be whipped for that.”

Bell sighed. “Bofur…” She didn’t want to create a problem between them all.

“He acted badly, lass.” Bofur insisted. “And he owes you an apology, a big one. A dam would cut his beard -and likely his head -off if he treated her in such a way. He owes you an apology and a mountain of gold.”

“But I am no dam, am I?” Bell finally snapped. “And that’s likely the problem.”

“No, no!” Bofur protested vehemently. “Thorin is the problem, not you!”

She was going to agree with that -he as a bloody problem -but her blade was glowing blue, and they were falling and falling… 

***

After the goblin’s cave, the fight against the orcs, and everything in between, Bluebell was feeling emotionally drained.

She couldn’t forget he’d told her to go. And more than that: his voice had pushed her away! This was not a simple matter.

Once they came down from the Carrocks, Óin insisted Thorin needed to be sat down, fully checked and have his wounds tended. Bell watched the procedures from a safe distance, then observed as Thorin had a furious whispered conversation with Balin. Eventually the King sighed, and Balin gave him a firm look.

“Lass.” Balin called coming in her direction. “He wants to talk to you.” He informed her, then lowered his tone of voice. “Don’t go easy on him, lass. Make him apologize, grovel.”

Bluebell gave him a weak smile before going to where Thorin was. They tried to make him as comfortable as possible in the current situation. Even though Gandalf had helped him with whatever he’d done on the top of the Carrocks, Thorin had still been bitten by the warg, and the wounds were quite deep and had a high risk of getting infected.

He was leaning against a rock, and they’d used the blankets they had available to make him as comfortable as possible. He was also bare-chested, because Óin had checked his wounds and then told him not to move to put his tunic back on.

Bluebell had never seen him without a tunic. He was… Very different from the boys in the Shire. Hobbits were always soft; it didn’t mean they were lazy or weak, but hobbits ate well, which meant their bodies reflected that. There was nothing soft about Thorin’s body; he truly looked like he was carved from stone -lovingly carved, actually -and he had body hair -another thing hobbits didn’t normally have- it covered his chest, going down until it disappeared inside his pants. He was a work of art.

Bluebell kneeled by him in silence.

He was the first to break the silence with a sigh. “Bluebell…”

The touch of his voice was tentative as it had never been before. Even the first time they met, his voice touched her like he knew he had the right, like he knew she belonged to him; and every other time after that had been the same, he’d demanded her attention on him. Not anymore.

“I’m glad you’re fine.” She murmured, just to fill the silence he left.

“Bluebell, please.” His voice was pleading and so was its touch. “Look at me.”

She did, and it shocked her how much regret he had in his eyes.

“Bofur was right.” He spoke after a second. “I deserve a whipping, at least.” She hadn’t known he was awake then. “I should have never said those words to you.

“The problem is not the words you said, Thorin.” She looked at him dead in the eye. “The problem is what I felt.”

He flinched as if she had slapped him. However, he seemed to fortify himself. “I will not ask you what you felt, not yet. I will explain what I was thinking, then you tell me if you think I am lying. Could you do this for me?” He begged.

His voice was grasping at her hands, gently pulling her towards him. “I will listen.” She promised.

“I know I am not the most diplomatic dwarf.” He finally said. “Which is ironic, to say the least. Most of the time I am at a loss for words, especially when it comes to you.” He sighed derisively. “I knew from the moment I saw you, you were my One. How could I not?” He looked at her, his eyes fixed on her face, lovingly taking her traces. She could feel his voice following their path. “I’d heard the stories, but I’d lost hope to ever find my other piece. To find you, so far for my home, and a hobbit… I didn’t know how to react, so I reacted badly.” He scoffed, clearly at himself. “I didn’t believe you knew what you were to me, and I didn’t dare to hope.”

“So the problem is the fact that I’m not a dam.” Bell spoke softly, because that was exactly what she’d thought from the beginning.

“No!” Thorin was quick to deny. “It is not the point, it never was. I feared you wouldn’t know about Ones, that you wouldn’t want me. Men and elves don’t understand it; it’s different for them.” His shoulders slumped. “I wanted you from the first time I saw you, but I didn’t have anything to offer you. And bring you along in this? Not only I wasn’t capable of providing for you as I should, but I was asking you to risk your safety for me.”

“Thorin…”

“And I was stupid and bullheaded, and I hurt you, which is unacceptable. That’s why Bofur was right: I deserve to be whipped at least. I’ll give you my beard if you want, I’ll give you compensation, whatever you deem necessary.”

Bell groaned in despair. “What’s with you dwarves and these beards and gold? I don’t want any of that. How can’t you see it? I’m a hobbit.” She exploded, getting up.

All the dwarves who’d been doing a reasonably decent job of pretending they weren’t paying attention to the conversation dropped all the pretenses.

Even Thorin seemed startled. “I know that…”

“No, I don’t think you do!” She protested. “Because you’ve been keeping things from me for absolutely no reason! I don’t need you to provide for me. I’ll have you know I have very comfortable situation back home. You didn’t ask me to risk my life; I did it because I wanted to. And stop offering me gold or beard, as I have no use for either!”

Thorin was shocked into silence, but so were the others. Even Gandalf, who normally was immune to those things, seemed mighty uncomfortable.

It was the sudden silence that made Bell feel self-conscious. She sat back on the ground, feeling her cheeks burning in shame. “I do not have the same needs and concerns as a dwarf.” She told him softly this time. “I don’t see the problem in brushing my hair in public, but I’d be very upset if you tried to touch my toes in front of the others. Hobbits’ feet are as well kept as a dwarf’s beard. I don’t care for gold; I prefer flowers, but not bluebells, because that’s too obvious. I eat a lot and I enjoy the sun and a comfortable bed. I knew you were mine from the moment I saw you, but I spent every moment after that thinking I wasn't good enough.”

“I am sorry, Bluebell. I truly am.” His voice was holding her hands gently, she could feel them drawing circles on it. “But I am also just a dwarf. I don't know how to fix this any other way.”

“Just tell me the truth.” She insisted.

“I didn’t tell you to go because I didn’t want you.” He told her firmly, his voice growing still, but still holding her hand firmly. “I said that because I’d almost lost you and that thought filled me with despair. Yes, I wanted you gone, but it was because I didn’t want you here, risking your life. I wanted you back home safe and sound, far from this madness.”

And then Bluebell realized: he was telling the truth. The Voice pushing her hadn’t been trying to get rid of her, it really was trying to protect her, keep her out of danger.

“You wanted me gone because you thought it’d be safer this way.” She spoke softly.

“Yes, but you proved me wrong once again.” This time he actually reached out and laid his big hand on top of hers. “You’re far braver than most I’ve met. You’re resilient, ingenious and kind-hearted. I couldn’t have dreamed of a more perfect One, and it’s still hard to believe you’re real.”

Oh darn it. For a dwarf that spent so much time refusing to talk properly to her and claimed not being the most diplomatic one, he sure had a way with words.

“I believe you.” She told him, her voice low.

He let out a relieved breath. “Thank you, Bluebell.” His voice came to her as a firm hug, squeezing her, which made Bluebell squeak. “I wasn’t thinking anything bad.” He hurried to say.

“No, you…” she cleared her throat. “You hugged me.”

“I see.” He gave her a small smile. “I wish I could feel the words the way you do.”

“So you don’t feel me at all?” She asked, since she’d been curious about it this whole time.

“I feel you in my heart.” He put his hand on his chest. “It’s as if I have two beating hearts now. That’s how I knew you weren’t harmed in the tunnels.”

“Oh.”

There was a moment of silence. “Bluebell…”

“I like when you say my name.” She told him suddenly. “Better than Burglar.” She looked at him. “I forgive you, Thorin.”

He seemed to weigh his next words. “I understand that you’re a Hobbit and don’t need or expect the same things as we do… But I’m still an old dwarf.” His smile was self-derisive. “Just being told you’ve forgiven me isn’t enough for me. I know it may seem odd, but I need to give you something. This is important not only for me, but for the lads as well. They need to see it.”

She nodded her understanding. “If I accept it, it’s all forgiven?”

He snorted in amusement. “For you perhaps. They will remind me of it for at least the next fifty years.”

She hesitated for a minute. “Will we have fifty years for that?”

He gently picked her hand up and held in his. “If I can choose, we will have a lifetime.” He vowed kissing the back of her hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course things couldn't be that simple, but I think they did well... hahaha
> 
> Next chapter we finally make that E rating happen.
> 
> But...
> 
> I've decided to update all my unfinished works, starting with the older ones and working my way up. This means that I won't update this next. I hope it doesn't take me that long, but I don't know when I'll be back here, since I have 27 works that aren't finished.
> 
> So yeah...   
> I'll see you guys around, but if you're following any of my other works you can hope for an update.
> 
> Anyway.  
> Let me know your feelings.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know your feelings and we'll have more next Sunday!


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